Eyes of a Stranger
by Maggie LeMay
Summary: There's a woman Chris should be afraid of running into.....he just doesn't know it yet.
1. Chapter 1

-1Eyes of A Stranger

I own nothing but my OC and love for the Seven.

_A/N: As usual, many, many thanks to Jordan and Sarah for their support that never seems to waver, no matter how many times I ask for assurance that I'm not writing pure dross. You guys are the best!_

Chris Larabee's hard gaze moved slowly from the glass of amber liquid in front of him to the stranger at the bar.

From where he sat at the corner table, he could see her red-rimmed eyes. She called to the bartender for a refill, and feeling the gunfighter's eyes on her, turned slightly to her left.

Sapphire blue eyes met emerald green ones. Tipping her glass to Larabee, she downed the drink in one fiery gulp. Standing, she picked up the bottle of whiskey and walked over to the lawman's table.

"Mind if I join you?" Without waiting for his answer, she used the toe of one dusty boot to pull out a chair. Sitting down, she filled her glass, then slid the bottle across the table.

After a moment, he picked up the bottle and poured two fingers in his glass. As he lifted it to his mouth, she spoke.

"You're Larabee, right?"

Tossing back the drink, Chris wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then sat back and studied the woman in front of him.

"Who wants to know?"

Casting a furtive glance around the saloon, she leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. "My name is Samantha Jansen. But everyone calls me Sam. Judge Travis told me you might be able to help me."

Chris filled his glass once more, and drank it down before replying. "And you followed me to Eagle Bend?" He shook his head. "You must need help pretty bad, lady."

Sam leaned back in her chair. "I do, Mr. Larabee. And according to the judge, you and your friends are the best men for the job."

"Not interested." Standing, Larabee turned for the door. But a hand on his arm stopped him.

The brunette was standing beside him, a pleading look in her eyes. "Will you at least hear me out before you dismiss me?" She followed his gaze to her hand, which was still clutching his forearm. Dropping it to her side, she went on. "I can pay, if that's the problem. Money is no object."

When Larabee didn't respond right away, Sam pleaded once more. "Please. All I'm asking for is a few moments of your time. If you still don't want to help me, then I'll leave you alone." Chris looked out toward the street. "Please."

Rubbing a hand over his face, the gunfighter pulled out a chair and sat down. "Why do you need my help, Miss Jansen?"

Pulling a faded photograph from the pocket of her duster, Sam handed it to Chris. "This is my brother. I was on my way out West from St. Louis to meet him, but when I arrived in Denver, there was no sign of him." She lowered herself into a chair beside Chris. "I searched the town, high and low, but no one seemed to know anything about him. I know he was in Denver. He had wired me only two days before I left Missouri. Something bad has happened to him, I just know it." Unshed tears shone in her blue eyes, and her hand trembled as she took the picture back.

"Wouldn't the Pinkertons be a better choice to find your brother?" Larabee questioned.

Sam drew a deep breath, then released it. "I tried them, but it was going to be weeks before they could get an agent to Denver. I don't have the luxury of waiting that long."

"He looks like a big boy, he should be able to take care of himself." Chris offered.

Clenching her fists, Sam whispered urgently. "He's only fourteen, Mr. Larabee. A child."

Larabee moved his gaze from the woman and looked around the small saloon.

"Please."

The plaintive tone in her voice brought Chris' eyes up to meet hers. Heaving a weary sigh, he nodded to the woman. "Do you have any idea where he might've gone? Anything at all to go on?"

A wistful smile played on her face. "He always talked about wanting to ride with the Texas Rangers when he was a small boy."

Chris grinned, the comment reminding him of JD's talk of his plans to ride with the Rangers. "There's a lot of territory between here and Denver." Larabee mused out loud. "I'll wire the others in Four Corners and have them meet us in Rock Springs; we'll work backwards from there." As Larabee moved toward the door of the saloon, he called back to the woman. "Get some rest, it's gonna be a hard ride." Tipping his hat, he pushed the swinging doors open and was gone, not seeing the two men who joined Sam at the table.

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After leaving the telegraph office, Chris turned down an alley, taking a shortcut to the livery. The sun was going down, and he wanted to check on his horse before he bedded down himself. He was almost to the door when he was grabbed and manhandled into an empty stall, fighting against his attackers the whole way. Two sets of hands held him, while a bandana was wrapped tightly around his face, preventing him from calling out for help. The blond gunfighter struggled against his attackers, but stopped when the cloth was pulled down so he could see his surroundings. Green eyes narrowed when he saw Sam standing in front of him, a smirk on her pretty face. But the wicked blade in her hand kept him from trying to escape.

"Take him out the back way," she instructed her cohorts. "We don't want to draw any attention, now do we, boys?" Her lips contorted in a menacing gesture that barely resembled a smile.

The two men holding the enraged man half carried, half dragged him out the back door of the livery. Sam led Chris' horse from its stall and followed them. Once outside, the woman nodded to one of her friends. Darkness claimed the peacekeeper as he was knocked unconscious by a blow to his temple. Tossing him unceremoniously across his horse, they tied his hands and feet together under the belly of the animal.

The blistering afternoon sun was high overhead as the small group crossed a river. Chris had the misfortune of entering the water head first, the cold water shocking him awake. He strained to keep his head above water, praying that they would reach the other side soon. As one of Sam's henchmen led Larabee's horse ashore, she noticed that the blond had regained consciousness.

"Well, Mr. Larabee," she sneered. "So nice of you to join us." Stepping closer, she grabbed a handful of hair, jerking his head up. "I thought you were dead." Releasing her hold on him, she took the knife from the sheath on her belt and cut the ropes holding him on the horse. As painful as the bindings had been, freedom from them was sheer hell. A thousand pinpricks ran along his limbs, making them feel as though they were on fire. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she gave his body a shove. The numbness in his limbs rendered them useless, and he landed awkwardly on the rocky ground.

"Get up."

From his position at her feet, Chris glared up at the woman above him. "This ain't about your finding your brother."

Sam threw her head back and gave a throaty bark of laughter. "My brother? My poor, innocent little brother?" She mocked. "Oh, Mr. Larabee! I need your help! He's only a child!" Motioning to one of the men behind her, she told him to introduce himself to the gunfighter.

Reaching down, the tall man offered his hand to Larabee. "Lars Jansen." The newcomer smiled down him. "Nice to make your acquaintance." Anger began to simmer in Chris. Damn fool, he cursed silently. He'd fallen for the woman's pitiful story about her 'baby' brother. Now he was in one hell of a mess. Buck and the others were headed for Rock Springs. He wasn't sure of his exact location just now, but he was pretty sure it was a good way from Rock Springs. Hell, from anywhere, he thought miserably, looking at his surroundings.

"What's going on here?" He queried.

Kneeling beside him, Sam ran the edge of her knife along his cheek. "I'm going to kill you, Mr. Larabee." The tone of her voice was absurdly sweet. At his sharp intake of breath, she grinned. "What did you think I had in mind?"

Never taking his eyes off the blade, he said quietly, "You going to tell me why?"

"No."

The single word was punctuated by a fist to Larabee's jaw that rocked him backwards. Chris' mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. Through watery eyes, he saw Sam draw her boot back, but was unable to deflect the kick to his unprotected midsection.

His stomach contents rose in his throat, and he struggled to catch the breath that had been ripped from his lungs by the blow.

Leaning in close to the green eyed man, Sam raised her knife once again. Running it down his chest, she grinned at the flicker of concern in Larabee's gaze.

"Don't worry, sugar," she said in a honeyed voice. "I'm not going to cut you."

Raising the tip of the blade, she slid it under the top button of his shirt. With a flick of her wrist, she sliced the thread. Lowering her arm, she repeated the action on each button until Chris' shirt hung open, his chest exposed.

Sam stared at the lean, muscled chest for a moment, then rose in a sinuous motion. A vicious kick to the ribs caught Larabee by surprise, causing him to cry out.

"Who the hell are you?" he ground out between clenched teeth as he struggled into a sitting position

Sam circled around Chris, stopping behind him and laying a hand on his shoulder. Her fingers toyed carelessly with the collar of his shirt. "I can be your best friend." Larabee reached up and pushed her hand away.

The cold steel was pressed to his throat as she jerked his head backwards with a handful of hair. "Or I can be your own personal hell." Flipping the knife over, she ran the back of the blade across his skin. "Choice is yours, Mr. Larabee." Moving behind him once more, she pulled the collar of his shirt out slightly, and sliced the knife from top to bottom, rending the garment in half. Jerking the remains of his shirt down his arms, she threw the material to the side, and shoved him down on his back.

For the first time since being forced to leave town with Sam and her friends, Chris' anger got the best of him, and he lunged at the woman. Pinning her to the ground, he was about to demand some answers when a bullet whizzed past his ear, hitting the ground close to his right hand.

Lars grabbed his shoulders and pulled him off the woman, throwing him to the ground. A brutal kick to the chest was the reward for his efforts, and he curled into the fetal position to try and protect his body from the barrage of kicks and punches that followed.

Chris lay motionless, stunned from the assault. He could only hope that the ringing in his ears would subside soon. Blood ran from the cut that had been opened on the side of his face, and pooled in the dirt under his face. The amount of blood began to concern him as the wound began to throb in time with his heartbeat.

He was jerked into a sitting position, and while the two men held him upright, Sam laid the blade of her knife against his throat.

"If you ever try something like that again," she panted, the breath having been knocked out of her when Chris tackled her to the ground, "I'll cut you wide open and leave your sorry remains for the buzzards to dine on. Do you understand me?"

When Larabee remained silent, she pressed the tip of the blade against his skin, nicking the flesh enough for a few drops of blood to run out onto the metal.

"I asked if you understood me!" she shouted.

The blond gunfighter raised his eyes to meet hers. "I understand you'll be rotting in hell before that happens," he responded in a deadly tone.

With a cry of fury, Sam slammed her fist into his face repeatedly. Only when his head slumped lifelessly on his shoulders did she stop. The battered man fell in a heap at her feet.

"Take him on up to the cabin." Sam held her bruised knuckles to her mouth. "And make sure he's bound and gagged. We don't want our guest to pull a disappearing act on us, do we?"

The unconscious gunfighter was jerked roughly to his feet, then lifted between the two men as Sam's partners carried him to the old mining shack and tied him to a chair. Balling up the bandana, Lars shoved it roughly into Chris' mouth, then used another one to secure it tightly around his head.

"Think she'll kill 'im?" The shorter man, Gundersen, asked Lars.

Sam's brother shook his head. "Not before she puts him through hell, she won't." He looked at the abused man, almost feeling sorry for him. His sister was a vengeful woman, and this cowboy had no idea what he was in for at her hands.

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"Hey, Buck." JD rode up alongside the ladies man. "Why would Chris want us to meet him in Rock Springs? I thought he was in Eagle Bend."

Wilmington shifted in his saddle and looked over at the youngster. "Well, JD, I don't rightly know. But if Chris wants us in Rock Springs, then we go to Rock Springs."

Dunne shook his head. "But it just doesn't make any sense. Rock Springs is a full day's ride past Eagle Bend. Why not wait for us there, then we'd all ride on together?"

"Kid, you ask too many questions for this early in the day." Slapping the brim of JD's bowler playfully, Buck spurred his horse and rode ahead, with the younger man hot on his heels.

Sanchez watched the exchange between the two friends with a smile on his face. Vin eased his horse up beside the older man, taking note that Josiah's weathered visage mirrored his own concern.

"Yer thinkin the same thing as JD." The tracker studied the ex-preacher's face.

Sanchez paused a moment, eyes never leaving the trail in front of them, then replied, "It does seem a bit odd."

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Bleary jade eyes fluttered before opening wide. Not that this was their owner's idea; it was brought about by the incessant pounding on the door to his room.

"Ezra, I know you're in there." Nathan's voice penetrated the fog in Standish's brain. "C'mon now, open this door."

Throwing back his covers, the gambler swung his legs over the side of the bed, not surprised in the least to find he was still fully clothed. This was definitely the last time he would mix cards and that much whiskey. But judging from the roll of bills in his pocket, he'd been quite successful in his endeavors last evening. Not that any of that helped the pain behind his eyes. The pounding at the door resumed.

"Ezra, open this door, or I'll do it for you," Jackson called.

Standing on legs that were less than cooperative, Standish made his way to the door, opening it to find an agitated healer in front of him.

"May I ask," Ezra queried, "what is the nature of this early morning intrusion, Mr. Jackson?"

Nathan stepped inside and closed the door. "Early morning? It's close to one o'clock, Ezra."

Running his fingers through sleep-disheveled hair, the Southerner grimaced at the other man. "You still haven't answered my question." Ezra slid an arm into the sleeve of his jacket. "What urgency brings you here?"

Nathan leaned against the dresser while Ezra finished pulling on his boots. "I was in the saloon earlier and heard these men talking."

Standish looked up with a smirk on his face. "Imagine that. Men talking in a saloon. I am truly astonished."

Jackson shook his head. "It wasn't nothing like that, Ezra. They were talking about a man that they'd help some woman kidnap from Eagle Bend. From their description, it sounded a lot like Chris."

Ezra stood and picked up his hat. "I take it Mr. Larabee hasn't returned from his trip to that quaint little municipality?"

"No, he hasn't." The healer began to pace. "And this morning he sent a wire asking for some of us to meet him in Rock Springs. Buck, Vin, Josiah and JD rode out a little while ago."

"Leaving you and I to watch over the good citizens of this town, I presume?"

Nathan nodded. "Yep."

"Well, are you going to expound upon this conversation which has you so worked up?" Ezra arched an eyebrow as he waited for the healer to explain.

"Seems these two are traveling with a woman, and she has a grudge against this man. They finally caught up with him in Eagle Bend, and forced him to leave town with them." Jackson paused. "She's got him hidden away somewhere. Now I ain't sure, but from the way they described him, it sounded an awful lot like Chris. And he was in Eagle Bend."

Ezra looked up at Nathan. "But did you not say that he wired the others to meet him in Rock Springs?" Nathan nodded. "Then it couldn't possibly be Mr. Larabee in the clutches of this woman. Could it?"

"Well, like I said, I'm not sure it's Chris." The former slave snapped his fingers and grinned. "But I know a way we can find out. You interested?"

"Do tell, Mr. Jackson." Ezra replied in a curious tone.

"You up for a few hands of cards, Ezra?"

Placing his hat on his head, Standish gave a wicked grin. "I do believe that could be arranged."

The two men descended the stairs to the saloon below. Nathan nudged Ezra and nodded toward the table where Lars and Gundersen were located. A devious twinkle in his eye, Ezra made his way to the bar. Inez served him a beer, then the gambler leaned against the bar, studying the two men sitting at the table. _A good soldier always knows his adversaries and never goes into battle unprepared, he thought to himself. _

Picking up the bottle of whiskey from the bar, Standish nodded to Inez, then walked over to the two men in question. Placing the bottle in the middle of the table, he smiled broadly, the produced a fresh deck of cards from his pocket.

"Gentlemen," he said in his most amiable tone. "Might I interest you in a game of chance?"

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A sharp pain in his shoulder jerked Larabee awake. He turned his head to see Sam sinking her teeth into his flesh. The morning sun filtering in through the window made the tiny pearls of blood glisten like a macabre tattoo on Chris' pale skin.

"What the hell are you doing?" He growled.

Samantha leaned back and ran her tongue across her bottom lip. "Getting your attention."

"Why don't you get the hell away from me," Chris demanded.

He didn't see her draw back to strike but felt the sting of her anger on his face. He tried not to flinch, hiding his surprise with mumbled curses, and worked his jaw from side to side. He was actually doing a good job of concealing his discomfort when he felt her fingers gently caress the burning handprint on his cheek. Then her chin came to rest on his shoulder.

"You are mine to do with as I please," she crooned. "I will hurt you when I choose, and when it pleases me, I will comfort you."

He squirmed at the feel of her warm breath on his neck and stiffened when her lips kissed his ear. He wasn't sure what he did when her tongue, wet and warm, actually slid inside.

"I can see why she loved you," the brunette mused. "You've got fire in you."

Larabee narrowed his eyes. "Why who loved me?"

"Any woman who ever met you, of course." Sam cursed herself for the slip. It wasn't time yet. But soon.

"Besides, you're in no position to question me, Larabee."

"And you're full of shit, _Sam_"

"Possibly." Sam stood behind him, so close he could smell the lavender scent she wore. Closing his eyes, he remembered another woman who'd worn that scent. It was getting harder and harder to see her face now. Sarah.

Larabee was unaware that he'd spoken the name out loud until the blow from behind knocked him to the floor. A flurry of kicks followed, but still bound to the chair Chris was helpless to do anything except lie there while Sam continued abusing him. Her rage vented for the moment, she gave him one last hard kick, the knelt beside his face.

"How dare you speak her name?"

Standing, she turned on her heel and slammed out of the shack, leaving him gasping for air and more confused than before. If he made it out of here alive, this one was definitely going on his list of women he was scared of running into.

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"Well, gentlemen, it looks as if Lady Luck has indeed favored me with her charms this afternoon." Ezra shuffled the cards and smiled at the other men sitting with him. "Care for another hand, gentlemen?"

"Hell, you've cleaned me out." Gundersen picked up his beer and downed the last of it.

Lars leaned back in his chair and studied the Southerner. "I think we'll be heading out now, if it's all the same to you." Pushing his chair back, he tapped Gundersen on the shoulder and motioned toward the door with his head. The two men nodded to Standish and left the saloon.

Ezra stood and motioned to Nathan. Together they followed the newcomers at a distance. They watched as the men led their horses from the livery. Nathan's eyes widened when he saw Gundersen lift something from his saddle horn. He nudged Ezra and pointed.

"He's wearing Chris' hat." Jackson hissed.

Drawing his mouth in a grim line, the confidence man started toward the livery. "Shall we?" He replied.

Ezra and Nathan saddled their horses in record time, riding after the two men leaving town. A couple miles from town, they spotted Lars and Gundersen.

"Let's ride around Carter's Ridge, catch 'em as they come through the cut." Nathan pointed to a trail off to the left as he spoke. Standish nodded and followed the healer.

They arrived at the cut just as the two men rode through. Firing once into the air, Ezra called to them to dismount. Lars seemed to debate a minute, and Standish fired again, this time the bullet severed the reins Lars held and removed any idea of running from his mind. They got off their horses, and Nathan tied the two men up, while Ezra kept the Remington trained on them.

After making sure their hands were bound securely in front of their bodies, Jackson removed the black hat from Gundersen's head none too gently, then walked over to Ezra.

"Yep, this belongs to Chris." The healer brushed the dust from the hat, then glared at the men on the ground. "Where'd you get this?"

Lars remained silent, staring at his boots, but Gundersen began to squirm under the intense green gaze of the gambler pointing a gun at his heart.

"Hey, I just found it--"

An elbow to the ribs stopped Gundersen before he could finish his sentence. "Shut up, you idiot." Lars ground out.

Standish pulled the hammer back and moved closer to the nervous man. "Oh, no. Do let the good man continue. You found it, where?"

Gundersen looked up at the angry Southerner. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he stared at the man holding the pistol, which from his position seemed huge. He was unruffled, even in the oppressing heat, the only indication of his anger visible was the fire flashing in the green eyes.

Swallowing hard, he spoke in a trembling voice. "I ain't sayin' shit, Mister. She'll do the same thing to me she done to--"

"Shut the hell up!" Lars shouted, earning a kick from Ezra for his outburst.

"Mr. Jackson, what do you suggest we do with these reprobates?" Ezra ran his tongue across his bottom lip.

"Ain't but one thing we can do with them, Ezra." Walking over to his horse, he pulled the rope from his saddle. Bringing it back to where Ezra stood, he looked at the trees around them, then gestured toward the tallest one. "That one over yonder looks mighty sturdy."

The realization of their fate hit Gundersen first, and he began to whimper, despite Lars' repeated attempts to keep him quiet.

"Calm down, Gunny," he hollered at the smaller man. "They ain't gonna hang us." Lars sneered at the two peacekeepers. "They ain't got the guts."

Handing the revolver to Nathan, Ezra took the rope and began to fashion a noose. This proved to be the undoing of Gundersen, and after emitting a shriek, he started spilling everything he knew.

"She's got this Chris feller! Made me help her and Lars take him from town a day or so ago." Gundersen took a deep breath, ignoring the deadly glare that Lars fixed on him. "He's still alive, though! I swear it! Or at least he was when we left this morning." Tears streaked the dirty face of the little man. "I don't wanna die, Mister. Please. I'm telling you the truth. Honest."

"Where are they?" Nathan demanded.

Lars slammed his head into Gundersen's temple, knocking him over and stunning him into silence.

"We ain't telling you another damn thing."

Placing the noose around the big man's neck, Ezra tightened it slightly. "Then you, my good man, shall have the honor of testing the strength of that tree. Get up."

Ezra heard the warning Nathan shouted a second too late as his legs were swept out from under him. Lars landed on the fallen gambler and placed his hands around Ezra's neck. Standish fought back, but the man on top of him had a good forty pounds and a few inches on the Southerner.

Spots began to swim in front of Ezra's eyes, then Lars suddenly went still, and the body was pushed off him. Nathan reached down with one hand to help him up, while the other pulled the knife out of Lars' back.

"You all right?"

Standish dusted off the purple jacket before answering him. "Perfect timing as usual, Mr. Jackson."

Gundersen sat up, rubbing his head with hands that were still bound. "What happened?"

"You were about to inform us of Mr. Larabee's location before we were interrupted." Ezra replied.

"Who?" The man on the ground looked genuinely confused.

"The gentleman whose hat you were in possession of when we apprehended you?" Ezra sighed. Nathan tried to hide a grin at Ezra's frustration.

"Oh, yeah!" Gundersen nodded. "I'll tell you. What do you want to know? I'll tell you anything! Just don't hang me, Mister."

Standish rolled his eyes and turned away, speaking to Nathan in a whisper. "Good Lord. At this rate, we may never find Chris."

Nathan patted the confidence man on the shoulder. "Let me try." Ezra nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. Taking a silver flask from his jacket, he took a long drink.

A noise from behind caused him to turn around in time to see Nathan half-drag Gundersen to a tree and bind the man to the trunk with the rope they'd threatened to hang him with.

"C'mon. I know where Chris is." Nathan mounted his horse. "I told him we'd come back for him later." The healer grinned at Ezra's questioning glance. "He ain't going nowhere."


	2. Chapter 2

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The blazing noon sun was high over head when the blond gunfighter came to. Blinking against the combination of bright light beaming through the holes in the roof of the shack and the blinding pain in his head, he struggled to sit up, but the nausea and the chair he was still tied to forced him back to the floor. Lowering his head to the hard planks below him, he replayed the last bit of conversation with Sam over again in his mind.

What had him so confused was her reaction to the mention of Sarah's name. He couldn't figure out why she'd gone off like she did, and just the thought of her sudden burst of anger made his wounds begin to ache anew.

A sound outside the door stilled any attempt to work himself free from his ropes. He watched through lowered lids as she came back inside the shack. The toe of a dusty boot nudged Chris in the ribs.

"I know you're awake, Larabee. So stop pretending you're not." Sam dropped to one knee on the floor in front of him. "I think I've been a bit too easy on you, cowboy."

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she reached out and ran the tips of her fingers across his bare chest. She paused over the scars, shaking her head and making a sound of disapproval. "I can only imagine how you gathered these." Bending her finger, she pushed the knuckle into one that was still pink, causing Chris to grunt softly. "Did they hurt?" Getting no answer, she forced him to look up at her, her fingers biting into his flesh. "You don't mind pain, do you?"

Chris jerked his head away and refused to look at her. But she wasn't finished.

"Why are you doing this, Sam?" Chris offered softly.

She turned his head back towards her and looked him dead in the eye. She spoke as if the answer was obvious.

"Because I'm going to kill you," she said calmly. "Just like you killed Sarah."

With a roar of anger, Chris fought to free himself from his bonds. Sam grabbed the back of the chair and righted it onto its legs. The momentum from Larabee's erratic struggles to free himself, fueled by rage, helped her. Once the chair was righted, Sam calmly slid to his lap, straddling him, and placed the knife against his throat.

"Stop," she said in a level voice. "Enough playing around."

"I did not kill Sarah." Chris ground out through a clenched jaw. "She and Adam were murdered."

Sam smiled in his face, hers so close he could feel her breath as she spoke. "That's right, they were murdered," she said, her tone full of condescension and disbelief. Leaning close to his ear, she whispered. "By you."

Standing abruptly, she grabbed a handful of the blond's hair, jerking his head back to look up at her as she stood in front of him. "I'm going to give you something to remember what you've done. Your own badge of cowardice, if you will," she sneered.

Chris's eyes widened as the tip of the knife danced down his chest coming to a rest over his heart. The tip of the blade pierced the flesh slowly at first. Chris stifled a grunt, trying to breathe through the pain of the wound. Slowly, deliberately, the knife was dragged across his chest. Trying to smother the groan of pain in his throat, small sounds escaped him. Sam smiled as she sat back on his lap, the knife never losing contact with the flesh.

Angling the blade to reverse direction, Sam began the next cut. Larabee's breathing increased, trying to control the fear coursing through his veins and the terror he felt at this woman's mercy. Sam dragged the knife slowly, enjoying every small bit of muscle she revealed through the gashes she was leaving. Chris grunted as he tried to buck her off his lap, tried anything to get this bitch to cease her assault. Or to speed it up. Anything. His chest was on fire.

Sam gripped Larabee's legs with her thighs, holding on as if to a bucking horse. Her smile became a sneer as she switched her grip on the knife, holding the handle as if it were a spear. But she did not let the blade up for one instant. She was perspiring with the effort, holding on to the bucking wild animal Hank had told her about. The man who had killed her beloved cousin. The man who would pay.

She held her breath and she began the final slice. She was shaking with excitement and anticipation.

Chris cried out in pain, in fear, and in frustration.

The blade ripped the taut flesh of Larabee's chest as Sam finished her task. Allowing Larabee to buck her off of his lap, she stood to admire her work. She looked appreciatively at the crudely carved 'S' now adorning the gunslinger's chest.

Chris panted, looking down at his marred chest, trying to keep the bile at bay as his head swam.

"What's wrong, Larabee?" Sam said softly panting from the effort and with the excitement. "Still can't admit you weren't man enough to save Sarah and your son?" She smiled wickedly at the bleeding, broken man.

A red haze clouded Chris' vision as he fought to control the rage inside him and the pain in his chest.

Sam stalked around her prey, a predator waiting for the right time for the final strike. "I'll bet you just stood there, guzzling that bottle of rye while the flames got hotter and hotter," she curled her mouth into a half smile that was all evil, venom dripping from her words as she circled the chair. Chris remained still, but she could see his muscles testing his bonds even now.

Leaning in closely, her lips a feathery touch on his ear, her voice sultry, she spoke softly, "How did the screams make you feel?"

"No!" he roared. But the loss of blood from the new wound had taken the last of his strength and his head swam. The roaring in his ears slowly became a hum and eventually dissipated as he surrendered to the peaceful darkness once again.

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"Do you think we can trust Mr. Gundersen was entirely truthful in his revelation of Mr. Larabee's whereabouts?" Ezra questioned as he and Nathan rode away from Carter's Ridge.

Nathan looked over at Ezra, a broad grin on his face. "Nothing like the threat of swingin' to make a man feel obliged to tell the truth."

Standish smiled. "You do have a point, Mr. Jackson. Indeed you do."

Dark clouds began to gather overhead, blocking out the hot midday sun. The sound of approaching horses drew Nathan's attention to the path in front of them.

"That's Buck and JD." The healer said. "They're supposed to be on their way to Rock Springs. Wonder what's going on?"

Slowing their mounts to a stop, Ezra and Nathan waited for the two men to reach them.

"Well, well, Mr. Wilmington. It would appear you and Mr. Dunne are possessed of a rather inadequate sense of direction." Ezra grinned, the afternoon sun glinting off his gold tooth. "Isn't Rock Springs that way?" Standish nodded toward the trail behind the two newcomers.

Buck maneuvered his horse alongside Ezra's, before answering the gambler. "Oh, you're just a barrel of laughs today, ain't you, pard?"

"What?" Ezra tried his best to look offended. " I was merely pointing out that if it is your intention to meet Mr. Larabee in Rock Springs, as per his request, you gentlemen might want to consider consulting a map, that's all."

Jackson lowered his head, trying to conceal the smile on his face. JD glared at the healer and at Standish.

"This ain't no time to be cracking jokes," the youngster stated hotly. "I think Chris is in some real trouble."

Ezra's voice took on a serious tone as he studied the youth. "Son, he _is _in real trouble. That's where Nathan and I are headed. It would seem that he was taken from Eagle Bend under extreme duress and is being held not too far from here."

"That true, Nathan?" Buck gripped the reins tighter.

The ex-slave nodded. "Yup. We ran into the kidnapper's partners in Four Corners and one of them was more than happy to tell us the whole story."

Buck looked at Ezra. "One of them? What happened to the other one?"

Ezra shook his head and placed his hand over his heart. "The scoundrel had ideas other than supplying us with the pertinent information we were seeking."

JD looked confused. "What?"

"He's dead." Nathan offered.

"And you two know where Chris is?" At the affirmative nods, Wilmington jerked up on the reins and shouted. "Then why in the hell are we sitting here like a bunch of gossipy old school marms? Let's go get him!"

Nathan held a hand out and shook his head at Buck. "Now hold on there. If we go in there hell's a'poppin', we're liable to get Chris hurt worse or even killed."

The ladies' man looked fit to be tied, but stilled and listened to the healer.

"He's right, Buck." Standish added. "We go in there unprepared and it might prove to be most disadvantageous for Mr. Larabee."

Buck ran his hand over his mustache in frustration. "Disadvan--what are you trying to say, Ezra?"

Ezra heaved a weary sigh. "I am simply saying we need a plan, Mr. Wilmington."

"Then why didn't you just come right out and say that instead of throwing around words that would choke a plow mule?"

The Southerner's retort was cut off by Nathan. "Fellas, if them two was telling' the truth, we need to stop jawing and go find Chris. Now."

"By all means, Mr. Jackson." Ezra drawled. "I gather you have a plan in mind?"

Nodding, Nathan laid out his plan. He would ride back to Rock Springs with JD for some medical supplies and to round up Vin and Josiah, while Ezra and Buck would go find the shack where Chris was being held, but would stand down until the others were back with them. As much as his gut said otherwise, Buck finally recognized that riding in, guns blazing, worked in Jock Steele's dime novels, but not in the Real West. With a tip of his hat, Standish called for Buck to follow him.

They rode on the trail for several miles, then cut through the woods just before they reached the river. Ezra explained to Buck that this was where Gundersen swore Chris was being held prisoner.

Dismounting, they tied their horses, then moved closer to the shack as quietly as they could. Licking his bottom lip, Ezra's green eyes darted from one end of the building to the other.

"Nervous, pard?" Buck grinned.

"Not at all." Ezra replied. "I am simply trying to ascertain our best course of action."

Wilmington stared at the smaller man. "Thought we were going to wait for the others?" he questioned.

A figure appeared at the window of the dwelling. Standish nudged Buck with his elbow. The ladies' man unleashed a string of epithets when he focused on the woman. Her clothing appeared to be saturated with blood. Chris' blood.

Buck stood quickly and drew his gun. "The hell with the others, Ezra. Chris needs us now," then added under his breath, "_if it's not too late."_

"I'll go around the back, you take the side door," the mustached lawman whispered.

Putting his weight on the balls of his feet, Ezra crept closer to the door, keeping an eye on the window as he went. Reaching the building, he noticed that the side door was ajar. Peering through the crack, Standish swallowed hard. There was Larabee, bound to a chair and beaten badly. But the sight of the Chris' bloody chest proved to be the final straw, and Ezra barely made it back to the stand of trees before his stomach emptied its contents onto the ground at his feet.

Drawing a sleeve across his mouth, he took a deep breath then quickly made his way back to the door. Buck was already inside, and from the looks of things he needed assistance. Pushing the door open a few inches, Ezra gripped the handle of the Remington and stepped inside.

M7M7M7M7M7M7M7

Sliding one leg in the open window, Wilmington prayed that Ezra was in position. Dragging his other leg in behind him, Buck stopped in his tracks when he saw the condition Chris was in. Hell, his chest looked like it'd been carved on.

Just as the rogue looked away from Larabee, he felt a warm metal blade slide against his skin. Lowering his gaze, he flinched at he hatred filling the blue eyes looking up at him. Holding his hands out in midair, he smiled at the petite brunette.

"Now hold up there," he said in a soothing tone. "We can work this out."

"Shut your mouth."

Buck almost missed the tiny movement on her face, then decided to use it to his advantage.

"Are you winking at me, darlin'?" Buck looked down at the woman in front of him, the tic below her left eye becoming more noticeable as the seconds passed by. She pressed the blade of the knife closer to his throat, her face flushed with anger.

"I'm quite skilled with my blades, you bastard." She nodded toward Chris, slumped over and bleeding in the chair across the room. "Ask your friend."

Taking a shallow breath, he exhaled slowly, so as not to give Sam a reason to draw blood from him as well.

"Lady," the mustached lawman said in a voice intended for her ears only, "I don't know your story, but you sure are one big bucket of crazy."

The realization of his words hit her seconds later, but before she could reply, he shoved her with one hand, the other grabbing the weapon from her. A shriek tore from her throat as she fell away from the tall man.

Reaching behind her, she pulled a short blade from her belt and took aim at Wilmington. The cold steel of a gun barrel pressed to her temple stayed her throw.

"Are you certain you want to hazard that chance?" The smooth drawl was laced with steel.

Sam drew a shuddering breath. "He's trying to save Larabee, and the bastard's not worth it."

Ezra chuckled. "Worth?" Pressing the pistol tighter against the woman's flesh, he looked at Chris' abused form before continuing. "Exactly how does one determine the value of a human life?"

"He murdered Sarah," she replied, glaring at the blond across the room. "He doesn't deserve to live."

Buck flinched as if he'd been struck. "You lyin' little bitch!" he growled.

"You are sadly mistaken." Ezra said slowly. "Mr. Larabee's family lost their lives at the hands of Ella Gaines and her henchmen."

"He killed my cousin, just the same as if he'd set the fire himself," she hissed. "And he knows it's the truth."

Hearing the sharp intake of breath from his friend, Buck moved closer to Chris. He knew the guilt Chris carried over Sarah and Adam's death. Unwarranted, but he carried it all the same.

"She don't know what she's saying, pard." He placed a hand on Chris' shoulder. "We both know what really happened that night."

Chris shrugged Buck's hand off, and looked at Sam. "She knows what she's saying, Buck." Larabee spoke slowly, hatred for the woman in front of him mixing with guilt and sorrow in his voice. "Only thing is, she's right. I did kill them."

Standish stared openly at the leader. He knew that Chris was full of guilt over his family's death, but he never really knew how deep-seeded that guilt was until now.

Sensing that her captor was distracted, Sam took the opportunity to scramble away from him. Rising to her knees, she took aim at Chris with the knife in her hand and let it fly. Ezra's shout brought the two men across from him out of their reverie in time for the blade to sink into Chris' thigh.

"Bitch!" Buck roared and reached for his gun. Her slender form jerked and twisted as the bullet from Ezra's Remington made impact. She dropped to the ground whimpering, as blood began to pool on the floor beneath her, a second knife slipping from unfeeling fingers.

Vin came through the front door, mare's leg cocked and ready. He'd heard the shot as he jumped up on the porch. Tanner holstered the rifle and went to Chris' side. Buck was cutting the ropes that bound Larabee while Ezra held the gunfighter upright.

The three men carried their friend to the pile of blankets in the corner, taking care to jostle him as little as possible. Larabee bit back a groan as they lowered him and Nathan gently eased Buck aside so he could get a better look at the blond's wounds.

"What the hell happened here, pard?" Vin asked Ezra quietly. Standish shook his head, still not sure if he believed what had transpired before his own eyes.

"It would seem that our female friend over there held Mr. Larabee at fault for Mrs. Larabee's death. She was a cousin or some such. So she bided her time and waited for an opportunity to exact her revenge on Chris." The gambler cleared his throat. "And she would have been successful had it not been for Nathan overhearing her associates in the saloon." Standish grinned at the sharpshooter. "Not two of the more intellectual creatures one would ever meet."

The Texan nodded and Ezra continued.

"Nathan and I followed them and uh, persuaded them to share Mr. Larabee's whereabouts with us, after which we were most fortunate to happen upon Misters Wilmington and Dunne. JD and Nathan came to find you and Josiah, Buck and I found this place and I believe you know the rest."

Chris struggled to sit up, knocking away first Nathan's, then Buck's hands.

"I need to see," he said in a voice rough from pain. "I've got to know.."

Jackson looked at Buck, not understanding what Chris was talking about. _'The woman' _Wilmington mouthed to the healer.

"You just lie still and let me take care of you then I'll have a look at her," the healer said in a gentle voice. "You got some pretty nasty bumps and bruises there." Jackson tried to pull the handkerchief that Ezra had placed on Chris' chest away, but stopped when he saw the blood had dried and plastered the cloth to skin.

"Gimme your canteen, Josiah." He poured a small amount of water on the fabric and gently eased it back. The skin beneath was an angry puckered red, and he could swear there was an 'S' carved there. He sat back on his heels and looked at Buck and Ezra.

"What did she do to him, fellas?"

Wilmington spoke first. "She did her best to kill him."

"But only after a day or two of torture from the looks of it." Ezra added.

Nathan turned back to Larabee, cleaned and dressed all of his wounds except for the slashes on Chris' chest, then stood and motioned for Ezra and Vin to join him by the window.

"We've got to get him back to my clinic so I can take care of him proper." The ex-slave shook his head. "Them cuts on his chest need to be cauterized and I need more supplies than I have here for that. If infection sets in…"

Vin headed for the door, Standish close behind. "There's a barn a couple miles back. We'll head back there and see if we can rustle up a wagon or cart."

JD stared at the lifeless form on the floor of the shack, starting when Buck walked up beside him.

"She's a woman, Buck," the youngster stated in a disbelieving voice. "How could she do those things to him?"

The mustached lawman shook his head, not sure he understood himself. "She wanted revenge, kid, and that's never a pretty sight. The need to get even with Chris for her cousin's death was eating her up inside and it festered until it twisted her into the monster she was when she finally met up with him."

Dunne looked at his friend with confusion in his gaze. "But Chris didn't kill Sarah, Ella Gaines was to blame."

"I know that, son, and so does everyone else." Buck turned away from Sam's body. "But this one didn't."

The young sheriff took a deep breath, taking in what Buck had said. Then he spoke.

"Shouldn't we bury her body, Buck?"

Wilmington shook his head. "Our main priority right now is to get Chris back to Nathan's clinic." Placing a hand on JD's shoulder, Buck said softly, "Then we'll come back and take care of her."

The squeak of the wagon wheels announced that Vin and Ezra had returned. Nathan, Josiah and Buck lifted Chris and carefully carried him outside. JD spread a few blankets in the bed of the wagon and Larabee was lowered softly down to them.

The ride back to town was slow, and for the wounded man, torturous. An occasional groan or twitch were the only indications of his discomfort, however. And the pitiful cry for Sarah that only Buck heard. Tears filled his blue eyes as Wilmington tried to console his friend and calm him for the remainder of the trip.

It was near dusk on the streets of Four Corners when the group arrived outside Nathan's clinic. Fluid movements by his friends soon had Chris settled in the bed inside and Jackson began to clear the wounds and carefully bandage them.

A minor disagreement over whether or not Larabee was going to swallow the laudanum was settled when Josiah pinched the gunfighter's nose closed and he opened his mouth to protest. The six men in the room were treated to Chris' scathing opinion of them regardless of his weakened condition. Then he settled down and was soon claimed by a fitful sleep. Nathan convinced the rest of the regulators they also needed food and sleep so he could tend to his patient in peace.

Buck and JD were the last to leave the room and head downstairs. The two were lost in their conversation as they headed for the livery. As they rode past the jail, Vin called to Wilmington, inquiring as to where they were headed.

"Headed back to the shack," Buck said in a calm voice that belied the emotions raging inside him. "Whatever she did to Chris, she still doesn't deserve to be left out there for the animals."

Ezra tipped his hat as the two men rode away. Settling back in his chair, he lifted the cup of coffee Inez had brought out and took a small sip. Standish placed his cup on the table between him and Tanner then stood, checking his pocket watch.

"Got some place to be, Ez?" the Texan asked.

The confidence man smiled as he replied, "I do believe my down pillow is calling my name. For the next couple of hours, anyway." Replacing the watch in his vest, he picked up his cup once more and started on his way to the room he kept above the saloon.

The first bullet caught Ezra in the shoulder, spinning him around as the second hit hard, drilling its way deep in his thigh. Landing with a thud, he clutched his leg and dragged himself behind the trough. Vin returned fire on the unknown assailant.

"You a'right, Ez?" Vin shouted.

"Never better, Mr. Tanner."

Ezra fought against the wave of nausea and dizziness that threatened to claim him and drew his Remington, intent on assisting Vin. Standish focused all his energy on the gun and attempted to fire the weapon.

Tantalizing fingers of darkness caressed him. Just before he gave in to the temptation of the peacefulness they promised, Ezra heard the sharpshooter cry out as a bullet tore into the man's side and the mare's leg went silent.

The end?


End file.
